The silence of the night shift was a heavy weight.
Arthur had aggressively pulled off his monitoring cables, the alarms echoing through the glass wall of the ICU. Sarah ran in, her face a mask of determination.
"Stop this right now!" she shouted.
She reattached the cables, her movements efficient and practiced. Arthur lay weak and still, his eyes fixed on the empty chair.
""She kept looking at me," he said, his voice a ghost of a sound. "Like she knew it was over. Like she was trying to memorize my face for the journey. I never moved. I wanted her to see me until the very last second.""
Sarah sat beside him, taking his hand. "She did see you, Arthur. And she’s still seeing you. Don't make her watch you give up."